A Thing of Beauty
by lemon-flavored panda beans
Summary: Sebastian Michaelis is searching for potential employees for the Phantomhive household, but he does not expect what he sees. His world is suddenly rattled, and he is left pondering and deciding upon many things. Does stumbling upon this soul an advantage, or a harm to him as a butler and a demon? Only time will tell.
1. Chapter 1 :: Prologue

**Chapter One  
**_  
The Sleeping Soul_

_I've heard it was around here…_

A man clad in black walked past the ruins, not even once considering the unsightly shambles to be of minute interest. His eyes simply scanned the area, the reflections of charred and dilapidated concrete merely whizzing past his blood-red eyes. Rather, he simply walked in a dignified gait, the hems of his tailcoat barely fluttering in this windless landscape. For once, his eyes momentarily stopped to scrutinize a cathedral, its once colourful glass mosaic now lay shattered and burnt around the earth and lifeless bushes that littered in its domain. No.

Not a single soul there.

Without a second thought, he continued pacing around the cobblestone path, still tracking the faint scent of a soul that had enchanted his demonic senses. He marked this place as a place of interest when he started to look for prospective employees for the Phantomhive household, but it seems that his research had failed him. Not only was the sight disappointing for the eager demon, it also seemed like a waste of his time.

There was Meirin, a fiery-haired woman whose eyes could rival that of an eagle's, her skills oft used for assassination—she now performs fairly menial tasks around the estate for, despite her keen acumen, she is also horribly clumsy. There was also Baldroy, who was among the army and had a particular attachment to explosives, an excellent strategist on the field, but never on the kitchen where his recipes never successfully vanquish a thing called expectation, let alone hunger. The third was a young blonde named Finnian, a successful experiment whose lanky figure undermines the otherworldly strength he possesses, now left to tend the garden where the prospect of 'being outside' was much enjoyed. The three employees were left with Tanaka-san, the old Phantomhive butler whose service to the family dates way back from when the current earl's parents were still alive.

And the raven-haired butler bothered himself to reach the outskirts of England just to search for the fourth prospective employee. His excellent investigatory skills had led him to a speculation that there was yet another experiment, much like the situation Finnian had himself in, but something of a more interesting—no, an exponentially more _dangerous_ thing than simply superhuman strength. He was not able to take ahold of the specific details, but that much was enough to keep the butler's imagination running.

Though his blood-red eyes failed to see the soul of interest, his trained senses could definitely smell the spark of a soul, somewhere… somewhere out of reach. So near, yet so far. It smelled sweet, delicate, and it tantalized his senses so. It was as if this soul was a mere fragment, a leftover of some demon who was suddenly interrupted from his sumptuous meal—it was _that_ small, yet the small wisps of its aroma still caressed his senses, pulling him, like an invisible thread that held its tight bounds on his hellish being.

Stopping on his tracks, the pallid butler spun on his heel and retraced his steps. The scent just got fainter, a signal that he wasn't doing his search any good. With hurried steps, he returned to the cathedral that momentarily took his interest and stopped right in front of it, now ruminatively scrutinizing the opprobrious cathedral. His eyes saw nothing but the burned exterior of the place, its shattered glass and the horribly destroyed griffin doors. Nothing of interest reached his ears, nothing but the mere imagination of horrible screams of those who sought futile refuge and painfully died as the whole town was consumed by flames. Oh, that was definitely music to the demon's ears, but that was not what he wanted. The proud turrets and immaculate statues were also scattered around the immediate vicinity of the cathedral, with the top spot devoid of the bell that is supposed to be there.

And now that he thought of it, it seemed like this gothic structure wasn't simply caught in the hellish predicament that the whole town had fallen into. It was as if the whole town was burned for the purpose of concealing the immense sacrilege that marred the cathedral's hallowed walls.

No. Not a single soul there.

At least, nothing within the immediate reach of his senses.

The shadow of a smile crept upon his lips as his deep crimson eyes twinkled, almost matching the grandiosity of the gold and crimson pastel that served as a backdrop of the lone cathedral. Had he not been relieved of today's duty, he would be back in the Phantomhive estate, perhaps occupying himself with the meticulous preparation of an elaborate dinner for his extremely fastidious young master.

His solid steps were made no sound against the cold ground, and his lean figure simply passed through the doorway without so much as a rustle. Ah, even the burnt seats reeked of dry blood and rotting flesh, a testament that the tragedy that had befallen its denizens was unlike anyone thought it to be. It seemed queer— not a single bullet littered the floors, nor were there any bullet marks on the seats to speak of. There were, in place of the small metal things, small holes that seemed to have burnt its way through the constructs… and the humans seated on them. This method of death surely was a wonder to him, but deaths were deaths—he lived through years witnessing it, He walked past all these, straight to the solemn alter illuminated by flecks of the golden sunset peeping from the cracked windows.

Yes, this way.

The scent slowly became stronger with each passing second, defining an unseen path that the raven butler must take. Towards the altar, to the flight of marble steps with an immaculate red carpet adorning its platforms. Yes… _there. _Oh how queer the sight truly was, the sight of a demon slowly making a solid path towards the altar abandoned by mercy, where an open bible lay bloodstained, a chalice toppled with wine spilled on the once pristine veil, a paten settled upside down—perhaps protecting the Eucharistic bread that was otherwise badly destroyed and, on further observation, where the crucifix pitifully hung upside down.

Could it be under the table, a lone soul that reeked of pity and despair? Under the thick tablecloth that adorned the marble table, perhaps?

His steps brought him closer and closer, the faint sound of his heels clicking against the floors softly reverberating on its hallowed walls.

_Tap._

He definitely felt the change of ground beneath his feet. Something that could perhaps withhold the weight of a hollow structure above it, but never the pressure of a dense structure of such a massive size.

_Tap. _

How could he have missed this before? The scent of such a sweet soul wafting in the air like calm waves across a tranquil midnight sea— soft, delicate, and languidly caressing in his eager senses.

_Tap._

Was he really doing this for the sake of his contract with Ciel Phantomhive? Or was he doing this for himself? He had, thus far, accomplished his duties well in accordance to his Faustian contract with the ten-year old moppet, and though he intended to fulfil the contract just as they agreed upon, it did not stipulate that he may consume another human's soul. He was not necessarily starving, but the scent of this particular soul tempts him so.

At long last, the butler had finally reached the top of the short flight of stairs, and his observant eyes swiftly scanned the altar.

_Hmmm…_

Raising his left eyebrow, there was almost a smirk at the corners of his lips. Truly, this wasn't something a mere _human_ could settle. But there were no eyes to see, save for the empty eyes of that whose figure was pinned upon the crucifix. In careful steps, he brought himself closer to the marble construct, and with one swift heave, the butler flipped the large table, without regards to the objects on top of it, and without a single regard upon the massive crack it created on the wall as it collided. No, he was not to be bothered with humanly cautiousness, nor was he to be bothered to moderate his behaviour. Nothing stood in his way.

"So that's what it is," the butler spoke with utmost interest, a trapdoor in the ground made visible from beyond the cloud of dust that rose up all around him. Clapping the dust away from his ivory gloves, the demonic butler bent to pull its metallic handle, a bit too eagerly that the door nearly got off from its hinges.

Oh, that scent. It was as if the once-languid waves had crashed upon his whole being, with such impact that he stopped a few moments only to relish upon this wonder.

_Yes, indeed it is._

A flight of stairs led downward, leading to a darkness with an unknown end. But he was a demon, and darkness was not among the things that could possibly hinder him from reaching the goal. Settling the door right at the side of the opening, he slowly made his way down, on and on to the cold pavement that seemed untouched for quite a while—a few years, if his knowledge had not failed him. For a while, there was only silence and darkness that enveloped his being, as well as a vast expanse of stairs that led downward. If he didn't know he was on England, he would have assumed that he was walking downward on the stairwell to Hell. But no, humans did not have the capacity to reach _that_ far. Even for a split second, he was mildly impressed by the complexity of this flight of stairs. It could have disoriented a normal human's sense of direction, as well as their perception of distance. Yes, he was a few kilometres below the ground, and he was getting nearer and nearer.

This was a demon who could travel a week's long journey in an hour. But he could simply not afford randomly bumping on a wall, no. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into a few past half an hour. He was terribly irked by this cumbersome journey, and it teased into his very being. Until his feet had failed to step on a lower platform. He was finally on a level ground, and the only thing that stood between him and his point of interest was a mere door. A large door that he simply yanked, without letting mere human contraptions—such as massive chains and multiple locks—stop him.

And he felt the full force of this wave crash upon him. Yes, that scent. That scent that drove him craving for something he shouldn't, something that made him rethink of his contract, something that pulled invisible strings upon him. Yes, it was _right there._

Right before his eyes of deep crimson, was a queer room that encompassed any of his expectations. It had technology way beyond 19th century England… and contained something that could not have been accomplished by a simple human. It was a small, yet a fairly lofty room, dimly lit by the emerald liquid bubbling inside the capsules that stood at the sides of this circular space. A mass of colourful tubes and wires connected the eight vertical capsules together, each with a luminescent wire connecting to the round elevation at the very heart of the room. No, nothing on top of it, yet it let off a faint yellow glow.

From where he stood, only a slight humming of the machines reached his ears—no heartbeat, no distinct breathing, not a hint of movement from the identical bodies trapped inside the capsules. Not a single feeling or thought emanated from these bodies, almost like well-preserved corpses kept in abeyance on this queer place. Upon his first step into the room, it felt as if the scent was all around him, the soul—as if it held him in a tight embrace. His eyes were drawn to the centrepiece where it seemed strongest, and his feet simply led him there.

The massive elevation was a mere container, with a prisoner held within. From beyond the thick glass that separated him from the human, he could clearly see what it was. Its prisoner was a young lady, sleeping quite peacefully as though she was dead—or perhaps, held in temporal stasis. Now that he thought of it, her soul, her visage, it was exactly like those of the women also held in stasis on the capsules connected to it.

Yes, this must be the object of his interest, and though presented right in front of his very eyes, his interest did not dwindle, not even by a little bit.

It was as though her soul was pitifully ripped into several portions, used to complete the forge of human shells made on her account. So pitiful indeed, that it almost penetrated the demon's indifferent countenance. Only a few inches about five feet, it seemed as though the structure was tailored to fit only her inside it. Her pallid skin was very much alike a human who had not seen the sun in years, while only a bit expression traced her delicate features—her eyes were closed, yet the eyebrows were furrowed in such a way that she could have experienced excruciating pain before closing her eyes. There was a grim line tracing her thin lips, while the mass of strawberry blonde tresses lie in soft waves around her heart-shaped face. Her arms were settled at her sides, and her posture was stiff. There was no warmth emanating from this body, yet the fluctuation of her soul was very much wealthy of it. So full of humanly warmth.

And that was the beauty of it.

Her soul was indeed ripped into several portions, but it still felt as though it was whole. Something of such a high quality that, even after such a humiliating degradation, it still seemed to be of significant worth to this demon. Though now left with a fragmented soul, the essence, the rarity—he would perhaps encounter it only once in his whole lifetime, something he would relish for as long as he lived.

Would he really settle on employing this woman in the Phantomhive manor so he could be tempted by this enchanting scent every time?

Could he keep this soul around and stay faithful to his contract with Ciel Phantomhive?

_Would he covet this soul for his own?_

Unable to contain himself, the raven butler gingerly pressed the button that said 'open', and allowed himself to be tortured by the young lady's scent. Slowly, the container's covering lifted, and he was finally left without a hindrance. Cold air wafted out from the container, intertwined with the strong scent of the soul that lingered within the vessel.

There was a heave of breath, and a pulse of a heartbeat. He leaned closer, inspecting the woman who, now he verified, was only held in temporary stasis. A few moments passed, but the lady had not even flinched in her position, yet the subtle shifts in her body had not come unobserved by the demon.

Water welled up on the corner of her delicate eyes, and without opening her eyes, a single tear strolled down.

And without parting her lips to speak, the demon was able to hear the sound of her voice.

"_Die!"_

The voice reverberated on the butler's head, as though she had spoken it herself. It was a voice of hysterics, of madness, of hate… _of pain_. It was like a banshee's screech, unbefitting of such an angelic creature such as this one. Though definitely used to this scream, it came almost like a shock to this man. Seconds passed, and there was nothing but tears trickling down her pallid visage. Her breathing had become regular, so was her heartbeat. Her fingers slightly twitched, but the butler made no motion into forcing her into some sort of movement.

Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, revealing the somber grey eyes that settled within. A slight sigh escaped her parted lips, passively waiting for the usual ceremonies. No, her waiting was met with nothing but silence. Her countenance was calm and uncaring, yet the soul fluctuated in accordance to its owner's concealed emotions—it was erratic, furious and embittered. The soul the demon had followed was gentle and pleasant, but the one he had awoke seemed like a raging fire that only sought to destroy and consume, not just whatever it passes on, but _everything_ around it.

He was supposed to offer her a job, something as familiar as persuading her with the excellent benefits and how she could be of significant use. However, at that moment, it seemed as though all words had failed him. Was he _this_ selfish?

The fluctuations of her soul swirled, its emotions plunging to a darkness unlike he thought it was. It gathered more hate and despair, more and more, until a familiar sensation brought back the butler to his senses.

"_I will kill you!" _A surge of telepathic reverberations smashed into his cognition once more, even worse than her first threat. "_One day, I will crush you… all of you!"_

The atmosphere was dark and heavy… a familiar sensation of a mere human making its voice heard to the underworld. Hot tears still trickled down her cheeks as her lips creased to a frown. Eyes widened, the butler simply found it appropriate to halt the lady's attempt of establishing a connection. Such will… such _despair._

"Excuse me, my Lady…" The raven-haired butler interrupted, leaning forward so as to make himself visible on the lady's range of vision. "I am Sebastian Michaelis, the butler of the Phantomhive family. May I interest you in a form of employment?" Placing a hand on his chest, the butler took a slight bow as a form of respect, feigning ignorance to what he recently witnessed.

"_Huh?"_ Seemingly bewildered by the situation, the lady motioned to look at her side, and apparently the only time she took notice of the man. Eyes narrowed, she addressed the butler with such a voice that could not have betrayed her nature as displayed just mere moments ago. "So, does this mean they're done with me?" she spoke in a shrill voice, almost like a little child left wandering in the rain.

"That, I have no idea of, my Lady. I am of no affiliation with the organization that you are speaking of— I have come to reach this place under the direct order of Earl Phantomhive, solely for the purpose of employing individuals to serve him." Gingerly, his gloved hand reached for his pocket and held out a neatly folded handkerchief to the young woman.

"_Is that how little I've become?"_ Though the lady was thoroughly incognizant of it, the demon could fully hear the thoughts drifting around her mind. Her heart shrunk, almost humiliated by the indignation his words had brought her. "To serve… an earl? I refuse." Biting her lip, the lady found it convenient to turn away. "I have more important things to do than to dawdle on someone else's estate." There was a faraway look on her listless eyes that spoke of an earnest longing, and Sebastian was fully aware of this emotion swirling all around her. Not just longing, but a strong desire.

"Well, I-um, I'm sorry to hear that," Sebastian spoke, with barely any second thought as he pulled the handkerchief back to him. _Should I offer her a contract?_ The pervasive thoughts drifted in his mind, something he knew he wanted, but something he knew he can't do—a fact that only angered him. "Alternatively, I can fulfil that desire of yours and work for you. However, my services are not payable by money."

_What am I saying?! _The words slipped from his mouth, almost without his approval. His fingers twitched—there was a desire to hold her, the desire to have her closer… the desire to consume.

Motioning to look at the man once more, his passive gaze was met with a curious one. He might be of interest, after all. There was a momentary leap of interest, but it quickly sunk back to the depths from where it came from. "No, I do not think you can fulfil my wishes, butler. Considering the lack of loyalty that you have committed by asking to be of someone else's service, I presume that you are not someone who can stay by my side to see to it that my wishes are fulfilled."

The statement was like a bullet shot straight to the butler. He would not die for it, but the force permeated through him. Of course.

"If you would let me explain myself…" he replied, trailing off to scavenge his disorganized thoughts with a proper response. "It seems that you underestimate my abilities, my Lady. I am not such a wily thing as you thought I am."

"_This is an order, Sebastian! Come!"_

Ciel's voice penetrated through his thoughts, sending a pulse of anger through his veins. Why does he have to call upon him? _Why now?! _His muscles shivered in anger, momentarily torn between clearing up his name and abiding by his contract. Eventually he had no choice.

"But if I cannot redeem your interest, my Lady, perhaps it might be better to come again at a more propitious time? Please consider this: I will be able to grant a wish no human would ever hope to fulfil." With a last bow, the butler straightened from his spot and turned on his heel.

"Wait! I have an inquiry!" She spoke in haste, calling the butler's divided attention. Surprised, he turned on his heel, facing the woman once more. "What year is it?"

"1886," he flatly replied, disappointed by how his words seemed not to have moved the young lady's heart at all.

"Thank you," she spoke, motioning for a slight nod that she could not otherwise accomplish with her position.

And, with a slight nod, the butler was gone.

"What a pathetic creature," a deep voice spoke from somewhere else in the room. Somewhere outside the lady's field of vision. "Truly, it was a good decision to decline his offer."

* * *

"You are late," his master spoke sternly, glaring at him through his lone azure eye. "It seems like the enemies were made aware of your absence," the small boy spoke, huffing with anger as he peeked from beneath the large wooden table, body curled so as to protect himself from the onslaught of bullets that pockmarked the windows.

"I apologize, Young Master. I have no excuses." Placing his gloved hand on his chest, the raven-clad butler took a slight bow towards the boy's direction.

"Tch. It doesn't matter. Annihilate those infiltrators _at once!_"

"Yes, my Lord."

With a nod towards Tanaka, the younger butler sped off to the front lines, disappointed to see the servants severely wounded. Sebastian was quite sure that he employed remarkable people, but it seemed like the assailants were no less exceptional.

_It seemed that I left at an unfortunate time. Of all days, why today?_

Their snipers missed their target by only a few inches, and though distracted, the butler was able to evade all of their attacks. Aside from endangering the life of his master, it made him feel as though he sorely neglected his duties as a butler—and that angered him so.

With the butler's breakneck speed, the assailants found it particularly difficult, and though they continued to fire, not a single one of them hit. One by one, the butler's hands swooped to the side, catching the bullets on his gloved hand and sent them flying back to where it came from, exacting its revenge on the very person that fired it.

"I-it can't be just a butler!" The sniper from the farther bushes spoke, fingers shivering, heart torn on whether to continue fighting or to run away. It was a horrible sight, seeing his compeers annihilated with a mere flick of the man's wrist. More hesitation. Cold sweat appeared on his brow—he couldn't take it anymore! Shutting his eyes tightly, he pulled the trigger, hoping to hit the hellish butler.

A few seconds passed, and when he opened his eyes, it became the greatest regret of his life. There was the butler only mere inches from his face, and with only the moonlight illuminating his handsome features, there was a sharp crimson glare from an infuriated man and suddenly… an eternal darkness.

"Young Master, I shall be investigating this issue further, as instructed. I will make sure that everything is prepared first thing in the morning," Sebastian said dutifully, holding the candlelight up as the young boy rolled on his bed.

"I will not tolerate any form of neglect on your part, Sebastian. Do your duties as the Phantomhive butler should." The boy was impassive, though it were something he did not even have to speak aloud.

"As you with, my Lord. Good night, and may you have a peaceful sleep." Silently turning on his heel, the butler walked out of the room and casted a peeved glare at the young boy, just before the door completely blocked him out of view.

* * *

It was three hours past midnight, and this was a time usually reserved for various things Sebastian wanted to do—sleeping was a luxury for such a butler managing a rather eccentric household. But four hours of idle time, that is, from two to six in the morning, was ample time for him to pick up what he left off.

In a matter of an hour, the demon crossed the vast expense of land, rushing to the cathedral from a few hours before. He craved for that soul, and longed to settle matters with her. Why did he call her 'My Lady'? Why was he so interested? Why was he willing to stoop so low for a mere human's soul? He was baffled, and infuriated by the stir she had created in one brief moment.

And he would make sure that she will never come out of it unaffected.

The butler rushed at his fastest, pulses of arousal coursing through his body.

_No…_

Sebastian felt the stale midnight air pass by his cheeks, the nippy breeze through his hair, and the stench of a rotten civilization that dwindled into corruption. Yet, the closer he got, the more desperate he became… more and more— compelling him, haunting him, consuming him…

Like a thing of beauty that now only existed in mere memory.

* * *

**:: author's notes ::**

_Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji, I wish I do though. xD_

_I think I should apologize for the length. I want the non-Kuroshitsuji readers to at least know what I'm talking about, like a standalone. Should be pretty less in the next few chapters. :)_

_Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)_


	2. Chapter 2 :: Of Eyes and Smiles

**Author's Notes ::**

**I don't own Kuroshitsuji! **

_I must have bored you with the prologue~ Let's start the adventure, shall we? :) __*rubs hands evilly*_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

_Of Eyes and Smiles_

_1890, London_

The flurry of color and frills swept people from their feet, the lively tune resounding across the vast expanse of the whole ballroom sending its visitors dancing to their hearts' delight— except for a lone wallflower, who took small sips from his drink as he silently watched his fiancé meander about in the crowd.- Doc Manager

"Still nothing, Sebastian?" Ciel Phantomhive whispered to the taller man beside him while he kept his azure eye ever watchful. The lights merely shone upon his bluish-black hair as he made no motion on his spot, and his signature midnight-blue coat still pristine from the lack of movement to mar its surface.

"Nothing, Young Master. Should we start brushing around the vicinity?" the man clad in pure black inquired in a low tone, whose crimson eyes never left the spectacle ahead of them. He stood quietly as well, playing with the wine inside his glass as though he too was wholly interested in tonight's affairs. Ah, those scents were convoluting, and every swish of a body nearby felt like an allergen worsening his already confused nose.

"Yes. We have two hours left. It might be advantageous to us if we make haste," the younger man spoke, finally looking up to other with disinterest. _Besides, I want to leave this party as soon as I can,_ he mentally added, something that brought a slight smirk upon his companion's lips.

"Understood." In one swift motion, Sebastian placed the slightly filled wineglass on the table, but a sudden jolt coursed through his arm. His gloved hand collided with another, apparently without him noticing it was even _there. _

"Oh, I am truly sorry!" A young lady's voice soon followed as the hand was swiftly withdrawn from the table.

"It's okay," he replied, bowing to the woman whose presence slipped his attention. Upon looking up however, he could not believe his eyes.

Slender figure, heart-shaped face, grey eyes, thin lips, blush-kissed cheeks and strawberry-blonde tresses… Though the expression was different, his visual memory of the mysterious woman that flashed in his mind held such an uncanny resemblance that he did not even give himself time to have second thoughts about it. There was an apologetic smile on her delicate countenance, charming its own way to the depths of his mind. Yes, he did not even recognize that scent…

"Is anything the matter?" She tilted her head a little to the side, suddenly noticing Sebastian's prolonged staring. Blinking twice, it was as if her words did not reach him at all. "Hello?" Lifting her gloved hand, she waved slightly before the man's eyes.

"Oh, Marchioness! There you are~!" A cheerful voice tore through Sebastian's thoughts, abruptly pulling him from his meditation. "Finally some alone time without Halinor!"

"Viscount Druitt!"

Aleister Chamber's lanky figure suddenly appeared, bright eyes sparkling as he wound his arms around the woman's right arm, promptly pulling her away from Sebastian. "I've heard a wondrous tale from Sir Lancel Metzer. He says you've managed to instill a love of leaning on his oh-so-stubborn daughter. Oh you woman with your little tricks, how did you even manage to last a week with her?" He started chattering away, without any regard to what she might have been doing just a moment ago before dragging her off. A few seconds before disappearing amidst the crowd, she looked back and mouthed a simple apology to Sebastian.

"Ahhhh, her dress is so pretty~! Isn't it, Paula?" A young's high-pitched voice spoke up from behind Sebastian, almost in a dreamy tone as she lavished the after-image of the salmon gown the woman donned.

"Yes it is, My Lady."

"Paula~! Let's look for it!" Elizabeth Midford pulled upon her attendant's arm, curly blonde locks bouncing in smooth harmony with her buzzed motion. She was more than giddy, and it would be best _not_ to stop her from this hunt.

"Oi, Sebastian! What are you doing?!" Ciel suddenly spat at the distracted man, who seemed to have regained his consciousness as his master's voice reached his ears.

"Nothing of importance, My Lord. Now, If you'll excuse me…" With a slight bow, he turned on his heel and walked away, disappearing among the guests around the large hall.

* * *

Several shrill screams resounded from the courtyard, calling the attention of some of the guests still in perpetual bliss inside the lovely ballroom. In contrast to the merriment inside, the scene that bombarded their sight was one something truly appalling, something so ghastly that the women retreated back to the hall as soon as their eyes laid upon it, hands covering their mouths in shock, some with tears in their eyes. There were gasps even from the gentlemen gathered around the vicinity, and not a single one of them dared to approach the victim.

Scattered across the large stairwell leading to the estate were the mutilated body parts of a lady stripped of her own clothing, her life, and her identity.

For each flight of stairs, there were pieces of her, in order of its appearance on her actual anatomy—locks of her deep brown hair, her gouged eyes, her decapitated head with a gaping mouth placed right beside her earrings, her neck and collar placed beside a lavish necklace and her dagger-stabbed heart. The next flight of stairs held her torso, with her arms disjointed, placed side by side with the palm and the cleanly cut fingers, without missing the ring that it once previously held. The next, her abdomen, then her disjointed legs along with her horribly disjointed foot cut into pieces. On the eighth flight of stairs, her bloodstained clothes were neatly folded, with her gorgeous heels sitting atop.

And on the ninth, was a note written in her blood:

"_Fragmented pieces of a fragmented body_  
_Shattered dreams of an undivided soul_  
_Tarnished into defamation_  
_beyond reclamation."_

_(How was it having your body disjointed, miss Lena?_  
_I hope we can discuss it over tea sometime._  
_There are a lot of us who can empathize with you_  
_here in the underworld.)_

At the very bottom of the parchment was the number '21', accompanied by the symbol of an inverted star placed inside a circle.

In hurried steps, Ciel Phantomhive fearlessly squirmed his way out of the appalled crowd and examined the paper, despite the objections some of the guests had against his course of action. He was the Queen's Watchdog, yet such a thing still occurred even around his presence.

Whoever did this line of murders surely was someone who isn't afraid of Ciel's presence—and definitely not someone to be trifled with. Clenching his other hand to a fist, the boy couldn't help but to hiss in annoyance. What is the rationale behind this utter stupidity?! Who _dared_ to commit such a crime in public merriment? And _how_, exactly, was the crime committed while Sebastian is already snooping around?! Gritting his teeth, the young man took the parchment with him and walked away, literally trudging down on the stairs with his heels clicking against the cold pavement.

Sebastian's silhouette was on the roof of the tall manor, silently watching as the ordeal simply unfolded, his lips pressed into a grim line. How did such a criminal evade him, Sebastian Michaelis, and his demonic senses? It all seemed rather preposterous to him. He was distracted by the appearance of the mysterious lady, yes, but not distracted enough to neglect his duties. Eyes narrowed, he tried his best to sense the suspicious movement of souls all around the hall.

His demon skills had sorely diminished due to the long abstinence from randomly eating souls, but his skills granted him this much. Among all of the strong emotions of those humans gathered in the hall, majority of them felt disgusted, horrified and frightened. Some of them were curious and thrilled, but faint souls did not seem to jive with the bereaving atmosphere.

A soul that seems to be elated at the sight of the woman, and another that seemed moderately satiated with his soul's desire.

Two queer souls that felt different among all others.


	3. Chapter 3 :: Remnants of a Sin

**Author's Notes ::**

_Sorry for taking longer than usual, minna-san~! Week got a bit hectic... but it's longer! Hoping to get into fast-paced storytelling pretty soon. :D_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

_Remnants of a sin_

The young man simply sat on the study, his chin languidly resting on his knuckles as he pondered upon the pieces of parchment settled in front of him. All twenty-one of them, spread out neatly across the vast expanse of his wooden table, clipped together with the information Sebastian gathered about the victims.

There was no particular commonality that the victims shared. They came from different parts of the country, with no specific gender and came from all walks of life. It was unlikely too that these people were affiliated with the murderer. No organization shared, no common activities to speak of, with differing views of society.

Perhaps, if there was one thing they shared, it was the manner in which their corpses were found—their bodies were all gruesomely dissected, all of them missing a heart and, as Sebastian, Grell and Undertaker said, their souls were already gone. The message left to them by the murderer was identical too, with the number indicated their victim number, and the sigil of an inverted star, which, much to Ciel's ire, highly resembled the contract mark that he and Sebastian shared. He already had Sebastian investigate the sigil, but as luck would have it, an inverted star was a rather common symbol for Satanism in Europe for a few years.

"Young Master, it's time for your afternoon tea," the raven-haired butler spoke as soon as he entered the study room, pushing the two-layered food cart that held the steaming pot of tea as well as an exquisite tea set to match.

Ciel Phantomhive did not pay him any heed and silently continued his ruminations. The butler was used to it, and continued as per routine. He was well aware of how irritated his master was at the failure he had committed the previous night. Little did the earl consider how much his failure exasperated him so. No, that was not to be expected in the first place. Sebastian was a demon of refined skill, and this failure was a horrible stain on his reputation.

"Sebastian. Investigate everyone on last night's ball. Steal the guest list from Viscount Druitt if you have to. Just make sure that every name on that list is thoroughly inspected," the young earl spoke as soon as Sebastian finished pouring tea on his cup. "Do it as expected of a _demon, _Sebastian, seeing as doing it as a Phantomhive butler still fails you."

"Yes, My Lord." Placing a hand on his chest, the butler took a slight bow and led the food cart outside, ignoring the azure glare in which his master sent him off with. Closing the door behind him, Sebastian heaved an audible sigh, gaze fixed at the end of the long corridor.

That woman… now that he had seen her, it could not have been a mere coincidence. Fragmented soul. Yes, that was what the poor girl was when he opened the capsule, with fragments of her soul embedded in empty vessels. However, instead of pieces forming a whole, they were simply too much for a single body to handle. It felt like the soul was of a single entity's ownership, though the souls embedded were only slightly chipped—almost as if the soul was their own. And though Sebastian already had these thoughts in mind, he never pieced them together like this.

Nine. Those bodies grouped together in nine clusters. There were eight soul vessels in that chamber, nine if the centrepiece was to be included. Yes, it all made sense… to him. Due to these murders that he wasn't able to solve, the Phantomhive's name is slowly descending to ill repute, not to mention that Ciel's efficiency was already being questioned by the Scotland Yard (who, in actuality, knew no better). As a demon and a butler, he should be returning this humiliation about a hundredfold, but he himself was a bit iffy about his position.

Of course he wants it settled, but how can he _tangibly_ prove to everyone that his object of suspicion was more than just a mere assumption?

He wanted to be selfish. He wanted to covet that soul for himself. But now that he had seen it, he cannot shake off the idea that he was partly to blame for this. Wasn't he the one who woke up that mysterious woman? Not that he had issues with greed and guilt, but it was severely marring his aesthetics. _That_ was something he could simply not allow.

Heaving another sigh, the butler disappeared on the corner, spirits low and confused.

* * *

_They're the last ones on the list,_ Sebastian Michaelis thought to himself, eyeing the name carefully. They were not, literally, on the last of the list, but he chose to visit them last due to the only distinction he acquired from last night's affair. She matched the picture, too.

Shoving back the papers into the envelope, the butler made his way to the tall steel fences, eyes scanning the majestic rest house. It may not be as massive as the Phantomhive's rest house here in London, but it definitely prided itself on the intricate artistry. A vast cobblestone pathway leads to the house, lined with pebbles and colourful bushes, with a stunning multi-layered fountain settled midway the path. And while the path itself was a spectacle, its sides did not pale in comparison— colourful wildflowers accentuated the well-tended grass, with a lavish landscaping on its far sides. Light entered the brick mansion through its towering windows, though the view was greatly obscured by thick curtains. Several men stood at the gate, which he could only assume as members of the Marquess's well-trained troops. Still, despite the presence of these men, this manor still held a tranquil atmosphere, unlike the uptight one that always enshrouded the Phantomhive estates.

Upon approaching the gates, the men guarding it were accommodating, perhaps due to the thrill of being able to perform their duties. Sebastian was as business-sounding as was expected of him, but it did not present him any conflict with the Faust household's guards, bringing a delighted smirk upon his face—which he maintained until one of them stiffly walked towards the manor to inform his masters about the arrival of an unexpected guest.

A few minutes later, a black butler stepped out of the residence, cordially inviting the butler inside and escorted him through the refined halls, whizzing past the family's collection of landscape paintings from different parts of the world that piqued the butler's interest, until they halted in front of a pair of doors. Really, there was nothing unusual in the house, not quite as expected.

Lifting his hands, the butler rapped on the door thrice and promptly announced their presence. "Marquess Faust, the guest has arrived." Without waiting for a reply, the butler turned the knob with his gloved hand and opened the doors, flooding the butler's crimson eyes with light flooding in front the tall windows. The carpeted room was simple, adorned only with various articles of entertainment and a wall's worth of books. A soft scent of lavenders lingered in the pleasant air, but there was nothing more _appetizing_ than that of the marchioness's soul.

_There she is._ Truly, his eyes had not failed him. She was stunning as ever, even more impressive than anything else Sebastian had seen around their abode. And though he wanted to extend his thoughts, he needed to accomplish this task before dinnertime, lest he wanted to face his irksome earl's wrath.

"Good afternoon, Marquess and Marchioness Faust. I am Sebastian Michaelis, the butler of the Phantomhive household." Placing a gloved hand at his chest, the butler took the customary bow and faced the couple, lips pressed into a feigned smile. "I sincerely apologize for coming without prior notice. The task is urgent, and it shall take only a few moments of your time."

"A pleasant afternoon, young butler," Halinor Faust spoke in a smooth baritone voice, beaming with affirmation at the guest. "Please, sit down," he said, motioning to the couch opposite from where Halinor and Ceridwen now sat. "What brings you here?" With a slight given towards his direction, the butler took a curtsy and walked out of the room, leaving the couple with their guest.

"I believe you were present in last night's ball arranged by Viscount Druitt," he began, subtly eyeing the couple in front of him so as not to raise suspicion, though his eyes lingered a bit more on Ceridwen's fair visage. Yes, that scent again. His nose picked up the faintest scent of a demon too. Could it be Halinor? No, no, the scent was much too faint to be someone of Halinor's proximity. "To make things brief, I am sent here to ask several questions in behalf of the Queen's Watchdog, to procure more information about the affair from possible acquaintances of Lady Spencer." It seemed like the couple shared the scent of Ceridwen's soul. They were different, definitely, but so subtly that his nose almost failed to distinguish them apart.

"Ah yes. Lady Spencer's misfortune was regrettable indeed," Ceridwen spoke softly, grey gaze lowered on the carpet beneath the table. There was a sad smile etched on her lips, something that spoke of her reluctance in pursuing the subject matter. "It makes me wonder who, in the face of this earth, dares to accomplish such an atrocity." Gently, she shook her head, trying to push the pervasive thoughts away from her mind.

Sebastian was well-aware of this, the fluctuations of emotion and thoughts swirling in her head. He somehow expected to pick up _something, _some sort of mental or emotional struggle between her thoughts and the words that she mutters. But there was none, each word spoken with heartfelt sincerity, and it almost made him guilty for suspecting her so.

Squeezing her hand tightly, Halinor gave a sympathetic smile before turning back to the butler. "Aside from my wife's deep sentiments in regards to the demise of a fellow lady, what points of interest do the Earl of Phantomhive wish to discover?" His burgundy stare was neutral and the expressions behind it were particularly difficult to discern, even with Sebastian's trained eye.

To the butler, however, he was momentarily dazed by how the gaze seemed to penetrate into his soul and promptly looked away, towards the door that opened as if in cue, revealing the Faust butler's form. "Just simple ones, sir. Firstly, my master wishes to know: has your family been of the Spencers' affiliation in the past few years?" Sebastian tried his best to feign a pleasant smile, but he could not get himself to stare long at Halinor's eyes. Something about it just sent mild convolutions to his demonic innards.

Fingers lifting to his chin, the sound of sloshing tea as the butler poured was accompanied by a slight hmm. "I don't recall any occasion in which the Faust household has come to acquaint, much less to affiliate with the Spencer family," he spoke in a matter-of-factly tone.

"As for the Freys, I am led to believe that the Spencers were once close allies with them. Far in the family tree, a few generations ago, there were several marriages between their family and ours— lessening through the years and not a single one since a century ago. Grandmother often told tales of how our great ancestors were such excellent compeers in life and battle, and it was… a shame to have that relationship severed." Her voice was lethargic, and there was a reminiscent smile upon her lips as her eyes silently watched the gentle swirls of tea around her cup.

Sebastian noted this significant tidbit in his mind as he nodded, moving on to the next question after momentarily probing her expressions. She was not just gentle in countenance, but also in words and demeanour. It was a touching sight, almost like the untainted soul of a newborn. "I hope that the next one isn't too personal. In which parts of England have you been in the recent months?"

"We travel a lot, you see," Halinor spoke with a slight laugh, breaking the silence that had ensued between the three. "Businesses here and there, including the other places around England. I am often tied to the estate due to my duties as a marquess, so Ceridwen travels more. Nonetheless, certain invitations, such as Viscount Druitt's, often draw me out to excursions with my wife. Any particular areas in your list, Mr. Michaelis?" Silently, the man noted how Sebastian gave furtive glances to his wife, not too subtly for the butler's calibre.

"Yes, sir." Flashing a smile to the pair, he gingerly pulled a piece of paper from the envelope and slid it on the table in front of them.

Without making much fuss, Halinor pulled the paper closer to him and inspected the contents of the list. There was a gentle smirk playing at the corners of his well-defined lips, and his mild amusement had not gone unnoticed by the butler's keen senses. By the same token, glances shared by Ceridwen and Sebastian had not slipped Halinor's perception. "I have been to several of these areas, particularly those near the Welsh marches, due mostly to the seasons. Regrettably though, I have been to most of them only in passing. So far, this is the first instance that a grave issue had arisen during my stay. I can always tell you my network, just in case you wish to verify the credibility of this claim." There was a spark in his eyes as he glanced at Sebastian, the hint of a challenge apparent in his smile. "You might want to take a look at this, too," he finally spoke, breaking the tense exchange between him and the butler.

Ceridwen merely flashed an innocuous smile at her husband as she leaned closer to him, merely peering at the piece of paper in his hands. "I frequent these places," she spoke with a slight nod to the butler, "almost as much as I frequent the other parts of England. You see, in order to keep our bookshop business flourishing, I have the constant need to acquaint myself with the people's interests, as well as the coveted titles. There are times, too, that I opt to travel around Europe to see the trend for myself. I apologize that I could not have a clearer response for your inquiry. However, as is my husband's, I have never been on the same place as these atrocities. Recently though, I have been travelling less due to fear of these incidents." Sighing slightly, the woman looked away and settled her gaze on the window, silently sipping from her cup of tea.

Sebastian somberly nodded in understanding, holding his hand out to receive the piece of paper back into his ownership. "I understand, My Lady. It is for the heart of the people that the Earl seeks to resolve this matter quickly," he said with a smile, placing the paper back to its envelope. "The cooperation of the Scotland Yard and the witnesses had been most useful in piecing together the evidence."

"I look forward to seeing the end of this case, mister Michaelis," Ceridwen spoke amiably, almost reaching out to the demon's heart.

Though subtle, it seemed as though the Phantomhive butler was being increasingly distracted by the woman's gestures, moving his poor sentiments into motion. "We will see to it, My Lady."

Fingers slipping to his pocket, Sebastian pulled a folded piece of paper and slid it across the table, allowing its image to linger on their sight. An inverted star, enclosed in a circle. The circle was smoothly drawn, but the same cannot be said of the circle, It was poorly marked, as if it was drawn with a decrepit brush. However, the image was too small to notice the extremely minute details.

"Might you have a clue of organizations utilizing this mark? It is quite a common symbol, so it posed a difficulty for us. We have a few organizations in mind, but keeping track of their movements might be rather unfeasible as it would simply risk too much."

"Nothing in particular, except perhaps the vandals in the less civilized parts of England," the lady spoke in a matter-of-factly tone, gently shaking her head in lack of cognizance. "I have seen them in various prints, yes, so I can perhaps understand your dilemma. However, it is not a topic that particularly interests me, so I chose not to dwell too much on the topic."

"Considering the lack of imagination for the design, I could only surmise that they may be representing their belief, more than just a specific organization," Halinor interjected, still eyeing the design brought before their eyes. "At least, if I were to consider it that way, I could almost see the objective rationale behind their actions. Attempting to probe further, however, might be precarious for our situation."

"I understand," Sebastian spoke, bowing his head slightly as he pulled the sigil back to him. "Might I be so bold to ask you of various titles, My Lady? You mentioned prints."

"Most certainly. However, due to lack of resources, I may not be able to draw a list at this point in time. Would it be favourable to send you the list once it has been accomplished?"

"That would be greatly appreciated," the butler said, beaming at the young lady, almost forgetting that her husband's burgundy gaze silently scrutinized their exchange. "I have already taken too much of your time, Marquess and Marchioness," he finally spoke, eyeing both of them before promptly rising from his seat, a gloved hand placed on his chest. "I am most grateful with your cooperation. I will see to it that this information will not be put in vain."

"I myself am quite eager to see the results of your investigation," As the couple rose from their seats, Halinor spoke amicably, a thought most unnerving to the black butler. "We hope to hear from you soon. Shall we?" Lifting his arm, Halinor Faust gestured to the door.

Bowing slightly, Sebastian followed the man's lead, furtively stealing glances at the young marchioness, noting every feature of her in his mind. Behind that amicable smile, is there still the inkling of darkness that once brewed at the deepest depths of her fragile being? He wondered slightly as he walked past the double doors without starting a small conversation with either of them. The butler opened his mouth to speak, but a lump in his throat caused him to close it almost every time. Sebastian was smooth with his words, but why does it seem like each and every one of them had departed him? His lean shoulders slumped at the depressing thought.

Halinor was kind enough to extend his courtesy until he was off from the estate's vicinity, the couple watching him as he walked away as humanly as he could, in a dignified gait that befits a Phantomhive butler.

"He's quite the interesting man, isn't he?" Halinor spoke as soon as he ascertained that he was out of hearing range, eyes sparkling with interest at the butler.

"Yes, yes he is. But nothing more interesting than you are." Smiling jovially at her husband, Ceridwen wound her arms tighter around her husband and settled her cheeks upon his strong shoulder.

* * *

"And the last guests on the list," Sebastian spoke, glancing up at the earl, almost annoyed at the irked expression on his face. "Marquess Halinor Faust and his wife, Marchioness Ceridwen Faust. Currently resides on the Welsh Marches. Family affairs include training the troops, managing a bookshop and tutoring upon request. Travels a lot around the continent and the household appears to defend their area without fail even in their absence. Notable activity within the past four years. No known connection to any of the twenty-one victims. Although…" the butler spoke, lowering the pieces of paper nestled between his gloved hands. "It appears that Lena Spencer's family was tightly affiliated to the Frey household since the early 16th century. Relationship steadily dwindled since the late 17th century, connections completely severed in the last century, and causes of dispute unknown." Finishing his report, the black butler settled the papers atop Ciel's desk, revealing his research about the couple, as well as his notes from acquired statements.

The whole time after dinner had been spent discussing the results of his investigation, and the young earl silently rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Surely, the butler had done the best he could, even bringing him extra research on top of interviewing all of the people in last night's ball. However, it seemed that the culprits were more elusive than anyone thought. If they were participants to the ball, they surely did a good job in misleading the butler—but Sebastian was not the one to simply be duped by a mere human.

Azure gaze shifting between the reports, he could not help but to think of how they seemed to be running in circles for the past few months.

"I almost forgot to mention as well, young master, that Marchioness Faust has given word that she will be sending a list of references about the sigil that was included in the letters left by the murderer."

Upon seeing the questioning glare the earl donned in his eyes, Sebastian pursued the topic further. "During our conversation, she made mention of prints that may have some information about various symbols. I would assume, though, that those books would be rather difficult to take ahold of," the butler spoke pleasantly, almost with the hint of a smile on his face. He doubted that it would be of much help, but it would definitely save them the time of scouring the whole continent for those organizations.

"Tch. Understood. Just let it be known that it's your responsibility once it comes," Ciel spoke dismissively. Normally, the young earl would have retorted about the things Sebastian does on his own accord, but he needed all the resources he could—simply put, he was not really in the position to complain.

Despite the lack of the proper response, the shadow of a smirk crept upon Sebastian's lips, something left unnoticed by the young earl, whose thoughts were gravely populated by the issues at hand.

"Your orders, young master?" Sebastian finally spoke, dutifully waiting as he stood in front of the vast desk, hands crossed at his back.

Ciel released an exasperated sigh, lowering his gaze at the stack of papers that now lay on the table. More information and no results. Too much effort and wasted time. With all the affairs in the Phantom Company, Ciel could not afford to render all his time on this investigation. "Let it rest for now, Sebastian. I'll think up of something soon." Groaning irritably, the young earl closed his eyes and rubbed his temples gently.

"As you wish, my Lord. I shall return later for bedtime." With a slight curtsy, the butler sauntered towards the door and closed it silently behind him, leaving the young earl alone with his thoughts.

Earlier, Sebastian had thought of a possible connection about the murderer and the mysterious woman he had awoken a few years past. But he had met her and spent a few moments in which she was perfectly conscious and composed. And all throughout their conversation, he kept all his human and demonic senses open, trying to perceive each and every fluctuation, from her façade to the very depths of her tempting soul But now that he had finally met her, he had come to realize one thing—on talk of fragmented souls, he might have been gravely mistaken about Ceridwen Faust.

_Who is it, then?_ Sebastian lost himself upon the thought as he walked upon the corridor, frowning at the tragedy on Viscount Druitt's ball.

_Right. By the time it occurred, Lord Aleister Chamber was probably busy exchanging tales with the young marchioness, and he made mention of the fact that Halinor was not there. The demonic scent from earlier, his absence in the ball, the disconcerting gestures… could it possibly be him? I see no possible connections outside of his suspicious behaviour. _

Frowning deeper, the butler simply brought himself to the kitchen and did menial tasks to take his mind off the matter.


End file.
